soup and cinnamon sticks
by mirajens
Summary: Mirajane and the annoying things about being eight months pregnant with twins. Oh, and her panicking husband is there, too.


This request came at such an opportune time. My best friend is pregnant and her parents and the baby daddy aren't supporting her so I am the butt end of her pregnancy weirdness. Let's just say I have lost my appetite because of her constant eating and weird food selections. Despite the stress it's quite a delightful experience to see a mother to full bloom. Thanks for sending this prompt in, **deaddreams-and-tobacco**!

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 **soup and cinnamon sticks**

by _mirajens_

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"It's just that everything hurts, Laxus."

He was not accustomed to feeling like a helpless man. Laxus Dreyar was big, strong, vicious and thriving, not unlike a particularly stubborn gorilla or a bad fungal infection. He got things done fast and brilliant so that there'd be no room for complications to flourish or unnecessary lose ends to get rid of. He might not be the most dependable person or the easiest one to approach but no one could deny how efficient he was. There was a reason they paid him the big jewels. He got shit done, period.

Now, it didn't feel like that at all.

His wife lay on her back; the back of her head pressed against his lap and her hair a cloud of tangles from her constant squirming. Her feet were elevated on the armrest of the sofa and her hands rested on the large protrusion of her belly pointing skyward. Mascara tracks had dried across her cheeks, making her look so pitiful it took the words out of Laxus' mouth. She'd been complaining about aches and he didn't know what to do for her. The doctor said it was to be expected. Carrying a pair of almost developed infants in her gut was not going to be easy on the feet. Her ankles swelled to an admittedly frightening sight and when he tried to give her a foot rub (advice from Levy who had just popped out baby number three, _yikes_ ) but Mirajane was as antsy as she was irritable and refused his touch with a stringent tone.

She pressed the heel of her hands to her closed lids. Her eyes were swollen from her earlier bout of crying but it seemed she wasn't done. "I'm really sorry you had to shave my legs this morning. It's just─" She sounded choked, which would have prompted one to think she had admitted something dastardly instead of asking for a little help in the shower. "I can't reach down anymore. I didn't want to wear pants today because it's so humid out and I don't want to wear a dress with my cave man legs. I'm sorry. Was that really gross for you?"

He had no idea why she'd think body hair was repulsive to him. He shaved his face every morning and left an ugly mess of stubble and shaving cream on their sink. His armpit, quite frankly, looked like a forest and his leg hair looked like the evil woods Snow White got lost in. He'd thought it quite cute slathering her legs with his musky smelling shaving cream and squinting so he could discern her legs free of the pale hair on it or not.

"I like it when you ask me to do stuff for you. It's the least I can do and I don't feel so bad just sitting around while you're so uncomfortable. Don't ever hesitate to ask me for shit if you can't do it yourself, okay?" His hand smoothed over her belly, enveloping her hands in his.

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." She paused, and then spoke again. "Also my skin feels really itchy all the time. I just feel like poop and I hate it." She continued in that shaky voice that terrified Laxus. If she started crying, he probably would, too. It seemed nothing he could tell her was what she wanted to hear and nothing he could do for her would be any help. She probably just wanted to complain. Mirajane didn't do much of it, so he would allow her that release in the privacy of their home.

"I mean, if you want to you can just take your clothes off if they're irritating your skin. I don't mind." He tried with a grin.

Bad idea.

"Why, does my whale form amuse you?" The sound of her voice was like ice, a lance of it right through his heart. He was in dangerous waters here, he knew.

"No, I just wanted you to get comfortable. And you know you're always sexy to me, Mirajane." Were he a smaller man, he'd probably be a sputtering mess from the dark look in her eyes. Sweat beaded on his brow, another sign of tension.

Mirajane's lower lip trembled into a pout and fat tears sprung from her eyes. "Do you mean that? Even though I'm as big as Elfman? Even though I almost crushed your hip when we tried to make love with me on top?"

That had been a particularly horrifying experience, not because of her feared body-image issues but because she'd started crying thoroughly when she told him she was too heavy to move and that she was really hungry again. He'd still been inside her when he wiped her tears and rubbed her back. In twenty minutes he had her bundled in a robe and seated in the breakfast nook while he tried not to burn a cheese omelet. "Especially so. Only a moron wouldn't dig this whole shebang. You're even hotter with two Dreyars in your oven, Demon."

She pressed her face into the hard planes of his stomach, stifling small sobbing noises. These were the times Laxus couldn't tell if he was in a safe zone or not. "You're so good to me. I hate that I'm being a burden to you. I love you so much."

"Nah, come on. I put those gigantic babies in you. You know I got your back." He wished, perhaps for the first time, that his brain was hard-wired for a bit more poetry than his awkward prose. It probably would have made comforting his wife any easier. "You want some lunch? No more soup and cinnamon sticks, though. You're eating something that's actually good for you."

While she sat up with no small difficulty, her nose was scrunched up. "There are plenty of nutrients in soup if you're wise about what you put in it. Just because your definition of soup runs to Campbell's, doesn't mean mine does."

He laughed, a relieved sound even to his ears. "Alright, that's fair. You're still eating something else though."


End file.
